


My Only Sunshine

by ptgreat



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Canonical Character Death, Gen, M/M, Talon!Dick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-04 00:01:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1074612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ptgreat/pseuds/ptgreat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><strike>Based on <a href="http://cornflakepizza.tumblr.com/post/69336270831/omg-yes-tim-hugging-him-and-saying-something-like-i">some musings</a> between <a href="http://cornflakepizza.tumblr.com/">cornflakepizza</a> and <a href="http://wintersdrake.tumblr.com/">wintersdrake</a> about the Drakes being a part of the Court of Owls and Timmy being creeptastic.</strike> HIATUS</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Make Me Happy

**Author's Note:**

> UGH, I'm so sorry how short and crappy this is but I needed to write it.

Their smiles pleasant and polite, the woman and her husband seemed nice enough for Gotham’s socialite population, but Dick was far more interested in the tiny boy held aloft in the man’s arms, who stared at him with blue eyes a shade or two paler and greyer than Dick’s own. He was obviously excited to be here and that excited Dick all the more for the show.

“This is Tim’s first time at the circus and we were wondering if you’d let us take your photo with him,” the woman said.

“Of course,” Mary chimed, her cheeks dimpling. “We’d be delighted!”

The man—had they introduced themselves?—set Tim down and gosh he really was itty bitty. The young acrobat was hardly in the running for world’s largest twelve-year-old but he could probably sit on Dick’s knee no problem. Dick wondered if he could get away with scooping him up and squishing his cute little face. A glance up at his mother and her arched eyebrow suggested he shouldn’t try it. Well, fine. He only sort of scooped him up with a one armed hug. His parents posed on either side of him while Tim’s mother pulled her camera, compact but very nice, from her purse.

“Make sure you’re watching me when we fly,” Dick grinned. “I’ll do a quadruple somersault just for you.”

Tim smiled back at him happily, “They’re all for me. I own you.”

“…what?”

***

Tim regarded the Graysons’ broken figures on the dusty ground of the center ring with disappointment and glee. Only the two adults had taken to the air before the rigging failed, probably sabotaged, robbing Tim of his chance to see Dick perform for him. He turned his gaze onto Dick, his face messy with tears while one of the elephant riders held him back from his parents’ bodies. Tim tried not to grin, public image and all that, but he couldn’t resist kicking his little legs back and forth eagerly. His parents talked above his head in soft murmurs and he accepted his mother’s hand as they and the rest of the audience were quickly herded out of the big top. He struggled to keep his eyes on Dick for as long as possible and frowned when he saw Bruce Wayne approach the boy and put his large hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” Janet reassured him.

“Aren’t we taking him home?”

“Not tonight.”

“Why not?” Tim pouted.

“Something like this will produce a lot of publicity. He needs time to be lost in the system first.”

Jack chuckled and ruffled his dark hair, “You’re just going to have to wait, son.”


	2. Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim's talon still isn't home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These additions are more drabbles within the verse than an actual continuation of the story, sorry.

Waiting was awful and Bruce Wayne made it more awful. The longer it took for the Court to collect Dick, the more he was certain the man was going to steal his Talon. What would he even do with Dick? Leave him with the butler while he ran around Gotham ineffectively stopping criminals? Tim stomped his foot but held back any verbal whining. He had already used up his parents’ tolerance for childishness. Jack usually tended toward lenience but Janet was quite firm on what was and was not acceptable behavior. Both were seated at the breakfast table, sharing the Gotham Gazette and sipping their coffee. Tim smoothed yesterday’s edition, his fingertips blackened, and snipped off Mr. Wayne’s head with his green safety scissors. Then the four-year-old turned in several pages to where Vicki Vale’s little blurb about the Flying Graysons had been pushed. The general populace didn’t care much anymore about the ongoing murder investigation of couple of circus performers. Tim smiled and set to carefully cutting out the story and the small grainy photo of Dick sitting in an open patrol car with a blanket over his shoulders. It would be a good addition to the growing pile of newspaper clippings and photographs he’d lovingly collected.


	3. No Light, No Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: Sunshine verse; Dick first arriving in the court’s custody.

After the first week—month—year?—he stopped screaming. No one was coming. Dick shuddered, naked and cold and hurting. No one was coming. There were no clocks, no windows, no light. No light. No warmth. Only cold impersonal abuse attached to calm, cloying voices followed by nothing. The heavy iron door creaked and he flinched further into the corner, hiding his face and pulling his knees up tighter. Quiet shuffling steps, then a small hand petting his head, gentle, loving, warm.


	4. Bathtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: Dicktim, Talon/BbyOwl?

Sitting on the edge of the tub, Tim dunked his frog cup into the warm water and poured it over the older boy’s head, watching the sweet smelling suds flow out his raven hair and down his smooth, golden shoulders and back. They both glanced over when the door slammed into the wall, Tim frowning while Dick’s face remained passive, as Dick’s trainer burst into the opulent bathroom, the man’s panic turning into confusion as he took in the odd, domestic scene he’d interrupted. His little brows furrowing, Tim added him to the list and continued to rinse his Talon clean.


	5. Bobbin' Talon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For hawkstout's prompt: Sunshine verse, Dick and pop music ;D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by this [cute owl video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bPG2v6nLzdg&index=30&list=WLZQqhD6cwOhCCgxWdTkt3zg\)).

Cross-legged on his bed and scribbling notes in the margin of his history book, Tim noticed movement out of the corner of his eye as something extra pop-y and upbeat bounced onto the radio. Curious he glanced at Dick, who was lying on his stomach while he perused the calculus text Tim had given him. Elbows tucked beneath him and hands curled around the book, Dick bobbed his head to the beat of the music. Tim opened his mouth then shut it, just watching, but his Talon looked up at him all the same, brows slightly raised in question. The bobbing had stopped, Tim noticed, but now the young man’s foot was bouncing with the song.

He smiled gently, “It’s nothing,” and turned up the volume.


	6. Repentence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For hawkstout's prompt: Sunshine verse, Tim defends Dick.

Dick sat on his knees so folded in on himself that his dark hair—Grandmaster Clarke thought the talon was due for a haircut, Tim thought absently—brushed the polished hardwood floor, the base of his neck exposed for the wickedly sharp blade he’d presented to Tim. The teen crouched, quietly smoothing his fingers down Dick’s nape and slipping the knife into the thigh holster from which it had come.

"Your parents," his voice cracked.

"You didn’t kill them," Tim murmured, following the curve of Dick’s spine with his palm and savoring the warmth the young man still put out. "And I need you to help me punish the ones who did."

Dick pressed his cheek against Tim’s calf, “Yes, Master Tim.”


	7. Benevolency

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Woop, I porned. For the prompt: More talon!Dick au?

Tim lightly pressed down on Dick’s shoulder. The young man, hair damp and smelling like Tim’s shampoo, herbal and sweet, cocked his head but sat on the edge of the bed and waited for the next order, brows furrowing when, after Tim placed his hands on Dick’s knees and spread his legs, he knelt between his splayed thighs. Tim untucked the plush towel around Dick’s waist, fingertips brushing the defined lines of his abdomen, dipping with the sharp cut of his hips, and trailing along the line of dark, coarse hair to his Talon’s lovely cock, currently flaccid and framed by his neatly groomed pubic hair. Tim wrapped a hand around him and—Dick sucked in a breath—licked the tip like he was trying a new flavor of ice cream.

“Master Tim,” his voice wavered, cock already stiffening. “You shouldn’t…”

Tim pumped him slowly, “It’s fine.”

“But the grandmaster—”

“Who do you belong to?” Tim looked up at Dick, eyes sharp. “Me or Clarke?”

“You,” Dick breathed without hesitation.

A tightness in his chest that Tim hadn’t even realized was there loosened. He smiled and stroked Dick’s thigh.

“That’s right.”

He gave Dick another kitten lick, savoring the talon’s uneven breaths maybe even more than the clean, salty taste of him. He slid his hand down Dick’s leg before grabbing the lube he’d pocketed earlier. He unsnapped the lid with his thumb and carefully turned the tube, squeezing a generous amount onto his middle and index fingers. Discarding the container, he let go of Dick’s cock to smear lube over his palm and stroked him firmly, inspiring another sharp intake of breath. Fingers still slick, he pressed against his perineum and smiled at the tiny, silent shiver that ran down Dick’s spine. Tim kissed the head of his cock, pre-cum painting his lips, and looked up at Dick through his lashes.

“I want to hear you,” he said then opened his mouth around the head and sucked lightly, while he slid his fingers between his cheeks and pushed against Dick’s tight pucker.

“A—ah.”

Tim pulled back, tonguing the slit, “Good boy.”

Watching Dick’s face, Tim slipped his middle finger inside of him, up to his first knuckle, moving in and out a few times before joining it with his index.

“You need to let me know it feels good.”

“Yes,” Dick shuddered. “It, it feels good.”

He pushed in deeper, scissoring his fingers. Dick moaned and Tim rewarded him by taking his cock into his mouth again, stroking the base in time with the slow bob of his head.

“Unh,” Dick’s hips twitched, his whole body tense.

Tim hummed approvingly—his Talon was being good, so good—and Dick’s quiet moans increased in pitch, fresh pre-cum mixing with spit and vanilla lube and oozing messily down the older man’s cock. Tim shifted on his knees, his own cock straining against his jeans, and increased the tempo, his slicked fingers thrusting in and out wetly and hit his sweet spot.

“Oh.”

Tim swirled his tongue against the bundle of nerves on the underside of his cock, and more pre-cum gushed and Tim swallowed what he could of it.

“Oh, oh. Master Tim,” Tim twisted his fingers and rubbed hard. “Ngh!”

And kept rubbing. Dick panted and moaned, his beautiful eyes closed and his thighs straining to keep still while he clutched the comforter with both hands. Tim hummed again and pulled back, letting his teeth scrape upwards carefully and that was it. Dick whined high and desperate and came, just the head of his cock in Tim’s mouth still, clenching hard around Tim’s fingers. Tim swallowed a mouthful of bitter salt then, stroking Dick through his shaky aftershocks, raised himself up. Dick met him halfway and didn’t protest as Tim fed him the rest of his release, eager for the push and sweep of Tim’s tongue. Tim straightened his legs, threading his fingers in Dick’s hair, dirtying the dark locks, as he kept on kissing him. Dick touched the seam of his jeans, waiting, hoping for permission. Tim tugged his hair and pulled back a scant few centimeters.

“You need to clean up.”

Hurt flashed across Dick’s face, barely recognizable for what it was except for how well Tim knew his Talon.

He lowered his eyes, “Yes, Master Tim.”

“A bath this time,” Tim murmured, kissing the corner of his mouth, “for both of us.”

Dick leaned into the touch, a slight smile curving his full lips.

“Yes, Master Tim.”


	8. Pumpkin Patch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For hawkstout's prompt: I tried not to request more sunshine verse, I really did, but... Sunshine verse Tim and Dick in a pumpkin patch?

The air finally clear of Scarecrow’s special brand hallucinogens, Tim pulled off his gas mask. The death would garner Batman’s attention but, standing over Dr. Crane’s corpse, red still spreading across the burlap mask, gaining a little more order to his city was worth it. He looked to his Talon, who seemed to have something on his mind as he cleaned his blade and tucked it away.

“Could—” Dick cut himself off but regathered his courage. “Could we take one home?”

He gestured widely, vaguely, at the pumpkins still on their vines, already uncomfortable for having made a request at all. Tim cocked his head, a small smile curving his lips, and took Dick’s chin in his hand, pleased and intrigued that he’d verbalized the want. It felt like progress of another sort. Then he pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“As many as you like.”


End file.
